


To Fall

by Angryangryowl



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Office Romance, Slice of Life, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: Matt the maintenance guy falls for Techie from IT, and this should be the start of the perfect office romance. Until Matt gets a phone call.





	To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8 of 30 Days of Techienician: Cuddles

Matt still isn't sure how they become friends. But he thinks he's first person to shyly nod hello to Techie when he starts work at the same enormous office block as Matt. He thinks Techie works in IT, slightly better paid that Matt’s maintenance job. He wanders through the lobby in the mornings with his paper cup of coffee, and the sleepy smile Matt gets in return is always worth it.    
  
Matt is also the first person to nod to the empty seat opposite him in the break room when Techie gazes around, lost, with his tray, thinking how much like school this is.

 

He’s got pretty red hair, the first thing Matt noticed about him. Really very red, coppery, usually pulled back into a ponytail with a spare pen buried in it, but loose today, it falls to just past his shoulders and curls just a little at the ends. But now he notices his sea green eyes, that dusting of freckles across his cheekbones, and he needs to think of something to say...

 

‘You’re the guy with the sunflowers.’ Matt says, already kicking himself for how not-smooth the line came out. ‘I fixed the aircon above your desk.’

 

‘Oh uh..yeah. It's kind of a weird thing, the sunflowers. But I like them’ Techie doesn't quite look him in the eye, eyeing his coffee nervously instead.

 

He has them on his computer desktop, on a couple of pens, a calendar. He even has this little solar powered one that dances that someone in accounting gets him for Christmas. There’s a framed photograph, a teenaged Techie in a shirt and tie, with a slightly taller man in military dress uniform. He has Techie’s sharp cheekbones and flaming red hair. Both look proud.

 

‘They suit you. The sunflowers.’

 

Techie glances back up, smiling.

 

*

 

The first time they hug is when Techie is unexpectedly promoted. After a few weeks of talking, if Techie carefully timing his coffee break to coincide with the end of Matt’s shift, after talking about everything.

 

Techie almost interrogates him most days, he has endless questions but seems genuinely fascinated by the answers, testing his chin on his hands and listening intently. He learns that Matt wanted to be a vet when he grew up. How Matt has no close family, except his mom who he calls once a week, and a cat, Pepper. How his favourite commercial is the one for gum with the stupid jingle. How he likes the sun on his skin, even though he always ends up getting sunburned. How he moved here for college, dropped out, and never quite got round to going back home.

 

Techie tells Matt how he moved here for college too, they're actually around the same age but went to different schools. Graduated in electrical engineering, his big brother was so proud. How he'd always liked his apartment, though it's tiny and the bathtub is in the kitchen, so he'd never moved away. He got a job in tech support instead. How his brother is something high up in the military, and he doesn't know where his mom is now. His dad is brutally disinterested.

 

And Matt learns too how talking turns to awkward flirting that makes his stomach flip, buying each other coffee, and ten am in the break room becoming the best part of his whole day.

 

This is the day Techie sweeps into the break room grinning he's carrying a secret, and tells Matt that he’s being promoted to IT manager, he can afford to keep his apartment, he can pay his student loans, he can buy Matt dinner sometime, maybe, if he likes...Matt pulls him into a celebratory hug, hesitating for a second one his arms are around Techie, but gratefully reciprocating once Techie sinks against him, grinning into Matt's overalls. 

 

Techie seems to small compared to him, and at first Matt feels as though he’ll break him, but he hugs fiercely, like he means it. There's a snatch of soap and some soft, powdery smell to his pretty end hair. It's soft against Matt’s cheek, and he tries not to think about nuzzling closer.

 

‘It’s all going to be okay, Matt. All of it. I can  _ feel  _ it!’

 

It's over too quickly. But Matt also feels like, just maybe, things really will be okay. And if Techie wants to take him to dinner, well, he can't think of anything he'd rather do.

 

*

 

The second time they hug is after their first proper date. 

 

It's October and the rain is persistent, pattering on the paving slabs outside and streaking the windows, the sky a heavy and grim shade of grey. The occasional low, ominous roll of thunder melts into the background, winter still trying to make itself heard outside.

 

It’s only Starbucks. But there are two armchairs, squashy and worn with use, a person-shaped hollow formed in each one. They face each other, sitting in the front window, watching the rain.

 

Matt remembers his favourite, a vanilla latte, not too hot, with a straw. Matt likes earl grey, with milk. They split a blueberry muffin and Matt learns how Techie is a messy eater, and it eases the twist in his guts somehow, the way he blushes when he sweeps the crumbs from his coat front.   
  
‘It’s not mess, it’s enthusiasm!’ he explains, gesturing widely and punctuating it with a spray of muffin crumbs.

 

They talk even more, they always seem to find something to talk about when they're together. They talk until Matt is falling hard for him, and his ridiculous snorting giggle, the way he talks with his hands as well as his mouth, that one stray lock of hair that always finds its way back to curl around his chin. They talk until far too late, realising that the rain isn't going to stop and the assistant behind the counter is pointedly sweeping the floor.

 

They walk to Techie’s car, huddling under Matt’s useless umbrella. They live at opposite ends of town, and Techie driving Matt would be a little pointless, although he offers anyway.

 

‘Anyway, it's this one..’ Techie points out a battered green car, almost as old as Matt. He gestures to it like he wishes it wasn't there, a halfhearted flap of his hand.

 

‘I’m sorry about the weather. But I had fun.’ He glances up at Matt, all big blue eyes and hope.

 

‘Me too. Again, sometime?’

 

‘Wednesday. I'm buying you dinner.’ 

 

‘Okay. Yes. Absolutely.’ This is too many affirmations for anyone, but Techie grins, and stays huddled under the umbrella. 

 

‘Can I?’ Matt awkwardly gestures with one arm for a hug.

 

Techie hugs them as fiercely as last time, and between them is the press of wet wool of coats and jumpers. His arms tight and close and good around Matt’s waist, and maybe this time, he won't let go so quickly. 

 

‘I thought you weren't gonna ask..’ But there's a tease, a smile, in Techie’s voice.

 

Matt strokes his hair from his eyes, planting an affectionate kiss to his forehead, mumbling against his skin like he's afraid Techie will hear him. He is, a little. ‘I wanted to. Wanted to hug you. Wanted to..to kiss you. I like you a whole lot, you know. I hope that’s okay.’

 

Techie wordlessly shifts his head to turn the kisses on his brow into a kiss on Matt’s mouth. A press of his lips that seems languid although Matt can feel his hands shaking. Matt is too surprised to register, because the taste of coffee and vanilla, and how soft his lips are, and  _ Techie is kissing him _ short-circuits something in him for a moment. Because he'd assumed Techie would say something the pacify him and let go.

 

But luckily his body seems to compensate where his brain is lacking, and pulls Techie comfortingly close. Matt’s arms are about his shoulders, Techie hands under his coat, warm through his shirt and there's the soft slip and secret little sounds of tentative first kisses as the rain patters on the fabric just above their heads. 

 

Techie’s skin is damp and wind-chilled, his eyelashes tickle Matt’s cheek, and he feels so suddenly and gratefully in love that his heart might stop right there. But it keeps beating, a bit too fast, Matt doesn't focus on much except the lips on his, pecks that blur into something far more intense, into that little pink tongue with the tang of coffee licking into his mouth and  _ ‘Stay…’ _

 

He should probably say no. But then again, why should he? The man, this man with his straggly wet red hair and kiss-bitten lips is asking him to. He’s thought about this for months, practiced what he'd say when the time came, and said something entirely different when it did. Maybe he deserves a little happiness. His mother always tells him he needs to go a little easier on himself.

 

‘Okay. Yes.’

 

*

 

They get past the door to Techie’s tiny apartment without incident, and shed wet coats and jumpers far too quick, until they are standing in their shirts, hair curling from the rain, staring at each other, not quite touching, and the air between them crackles.

 

‘I could..make tea or..’ Techie falters, his eyes catching on Matt’s mouth.

 

‘Do you want tea?’

 

‘No, not really..’

 

Matt kisses him again then, and there is a battered sofa piled with cushions, and now that slim body is on top of his, heaving ribs and soft belly and hips that slot so easily against his, Matt can only arch against him and show how he wants him to stay, how he  _ wants _ -

 

And then his phone rings. He ignores it for the first couple of rings clinging determined until Techie sits up. 

 

‘You should probably..’ Techie huffs, straightening his back, hair awry, shirt untucked, looking so deliciously unkempt that Matt would dearly love to throw the phone across the room and take him to bed instead.

 

‘I’ll wait.’ He adds with a mischievous grin.

 

Matt tries to even his breathing as he answers ‘Hello?’

 

‘Matthew? Mr. Fleming?’

 

‘Uh..yeah, that's me.’

 

‘It's Doctor Marlin here at Tarkin Memorial. I’ve been caring for your mom. It's not looking good. She got brought in unresponsive after a heart attack, a neighbour found her as I understand. We’ll make her comfortable but i’d strongly suggest you make your way here. I don't like to say this, but there's been a few complications and a lot of fluid on her lungs. It may be time to say your goodbyes. I’m sorry.’

 

Matt is silent for a few seconds. 

 

‘Mister Fleming?’

 

‘Yeah. Okay. Thank you doctor. Tell her I’ll be there in the morning, I'll get the next flight out.’ It doesn't feel like he says the words himself, although he can feel his lips moving.

 

He doesn't know how much Techie heard, although from his expression he gets the gravity of the situation.

 

‘My- my mom. She’s in hospital. I gotta go.’ He suddenly feels ridiculous. Techie on top of him is suddenly too much where it was perfect a few seconds before. It all seems slightly obscene and inappropriate. He gets up too quick, stumbles, brushes off Techie's offer to help.

 

‘I have to go. I’ve got to fly out. I’ll let work know, the agency guys can cover. I’m sorry.’ It all comes out robotic, until he looks at Techie, his mouth open uselessly, and the weight of if all swells hot in his throat.

 

‘I’ll come back. I promise.’

 

‘I know. Shall I come with you?’

 

Matt shakes his head, no, blinking back the tears threatening to spill, trying to calm the spinning in his brain.

 

‘I just gotta do this. I’ll text you. I'll call. Something. I know this is bad timing.’ He attempts a smile, more like a grimace, and bends for a quick goodbye kiss. ‘I’ll see you.’

 

*

He’s too late, that’s the bitter part. His mother dies, peaceful in her sleep, while he's somewhere over Ohio. So all that’s left is a chilly hand to hold, and ‘I’m sorry.’ sobbed into the bedsheets covering an unfeeling chest, and the heart that once beat for him.

 

He feels too guilty to talk to Techie, however he justifies it. Even though his mother was 75, and had enjoyed excellent health right up until..well, yesterday. He hadn't been there for her in her suffering because she hadn't suffered. And ultimately, she just wanted him to be happy.

 

So he waits. There's no family to worry about, he’s the only child of an only child, he neither knows not particularly cares where his father is. But some people need to know. His mother’s church group and bridge club, soft, pastel and powdery old ladies who cuddle and comfort and tell him how he’s grown since he left. Who feed him coffee and cake and want him to talk about how sad he is, even if the best he can manage is a limp smile. 

 

But they also ask if he’s found a wife yet, any little ones? And compulsively he tells them about his boyfriend, even though he has no right calling him that, the man with the coppery hair and the goofy smile, who brightens his days, who he'd left because his mom needed him.

One of the women speaks, squeezing his shoulder. Matt can't remember her name but he remembers sitting on her lap and eating too many peppermints when he was still in kindergarten. She’s still as soft and fat as he remembers her, even if she is 25 or so years older. ‘You know Matt, May just wanted you to be happy. If this..this Techie makes you happy...Well I know she’d be just made up to hear that. I know it’s hard, honey. But you’ve gotta take care of the living first. Even you.’

 

Matt leaves eventually. He still has so much to do. He calls the funeral home and realises afterwards he can't remember half of the conversation.

 

His mom has planned for this, paid for it. Of course she has, because she doesn't want Matt to worry.  A simple church funeral and cremation. Nothing fancy, but she had allowed herself a horse-drawn hearse, two white horses. She'd always loved them. The funeral director remembers him too, tells him how sorry he is and how he is going to give May the best send off he can manage.

 

And when it's all over, and it's just him in his dingy hotel room, staring at the carpet and wondering what happens next, he pulls out his phone. One message from Techie, this morning.

 

_ I hope you’re okay. _

 

He’s not. But he suddenly misses Techie, and the great yawning hole in his chest cavity stretches even wider, threatens to swallow him up. He'd have told Techie all this, if they were together. Maybe it's heavier subject matter than coffee and biscuits and plans for the weekend. But he’s so horribly homesick. He misses his apartment, Pepper, and Techie’s ridiculous, snorting laugh.

 

_ I’m okay. Mom died Sunday morning, in her sleep. Funeral is Saturday afternoon. I'll be back after that. I hope you're alright too. _

 

It sounds terse. Texts really aren't though in this situation. It's late Techie’s time but Matt misses that voice, the slight burr to his accent and the comfort in his words. Matt quickly follows it with another text.

 

_ Can I call? _

 

Techie calls him instead of replying, he sounds half-asleep.

 

‘Hello?’

 

‘Hey, Techie.’

 

This is a bad idea. His voice sounds leaden and all he wants to do is fall asleep. Or cry.

 

‘You doing okay?’

 

‘Uh..well, you know. Sort of.’

 

‘Yeah. Do you..wanna talk? Need me to do anything?’

 

‘No. I-’ A hiccup, threatening tears. ‘I just wanted to talk to you.’

 

‘Oh Mattie..’ Techie never calls him that, but the way he says it sends the first tear spilling down Matt’s cheek. ‘It's okay. I'm here.’

 

Matt's voice wobbles, but he wills it steady through the next sentence. ‘I wanted to ask you something. I get it if it's too much. Come to the funeral with me?’

 

The line goes quiet for a moment, purring with static. He's blown it, asked too much. Fresh tears drip silently from his chin onto the carpet. Pat. Pat. Pat.

 

‘I can fly out after work Friday. I can sleep on the plane and come with you Saturday. That work?’

 

‘Y-yes. Thank you.’

 

‘I'm not gonna tell you not to cry. I just wish I could do something better than this. But hold on. I'm coming.’

 

‘I know. I...I'm grateful. We can do something fun next time.’

 

‘This is really the ultimate pity date.’

 

Matt actually laughs, hiccuping through his tears.

 

‘Get some sleep. Shower. Eat. I'll be there in a couple of days.’

 

It's Wednesday night. Two days to wait.

 

‘Goodnight, Techie. I'm sorry for the shitty timing.’

 

‘Don't worry about me. It's not your fault. Don't think on it too much. And go to bed!’

 

‘I will. Thank you.’

 

‘Any time. Goodnight, Mattie.’

 

*

The next couple of days don't drag nearly as horrible as he expects them to. His mother’s friends are a force of nature all on their own. They keep him fed, they organise a wake with very little input from him, though he feels he should at least contribute. He’ll half-heartedly suggests food, approves a guest list that's mostly his friend’s parents from school. 

 

He picks a reading once he's left in the corner with his laptop. And ‘The Lord is my Shepherd’ for a hymn. He remembers her taking him to church, her Sunday dress and good perfume and straightening his tie.

 

He speaks to Techie both nights, not long calls. But all the gossip and good wishes from the tech department. Techie’s big brother threatens to turn up, because if it's a big deal to Techie, it surely warrants his attention. But he's thankfully pulled away to work.

 

‘I feel like I'm supposed to know’ matt confesses on the phone, late Friday night with the noises of the departure lounge on Techie's end of the line ‘but what’s your surname? I mean, Techie can't be your real name?’

 

Techie laughs that soft, breathy laugh ‘No. And it’s Toby. Tobias.’ He sighs, regretfully ‘Tobias Friedrich Armitage. It's a bit much.’

 

‘I'd have started calling you ‘Your Highness’ if i’d known.’ Matt teases ‘I like Toby though, it suits you.’

 

‘Don't! But thank you. I've always been Techie anyway. Since school.’

 

‘If your surname is Armitage, doesn't that mean your brother…’

 

‘..is Armitage Armitage, yeah. He's never forgiven my dad. He mostly goes by Hux though, switched his first and middle names so it wasn't quite so embarrassing.’

 

‘Poor guy.’

 

‘He's pretty scary at work apparently. Youngest General there’s been in a century, I think.’

 

‘I'll be nice to you then.’

 

‘You’d better be!’ Techie laughs.

 

*

 

It's 4AM when Techie’s plane lands. Matt doesn't much feel like sleeping and goes to meet him at the airport, though Techie promises he’ll get a taxi and makes Matt promise he’ll get some sleep.

 

Techie’s face when he sees him at the gate, bleary eyed and exhaustedly grateful to see Matt, with an element of scolding, but not really, makes it all worthwhile.

 

He strides purposefully towards Matt, his bright red hoodie far too big for him and slipping off one shoulder, dumps his bag at his feet and pulls him into his arms. They stay like that too long, it doesn't matter. There's a faint smell of stale airline food and sweat and coffee, but under that there's the powdery smell that's all Techie. This is warm and perfect and home and  _ real  _ after so much sadness. 

Techie rocks him side to side in his arms like it will comfort him, and kisses his cheek over and over. ‘It's alright. I've got you, Mattie. I'm here.’ 

 

Because Matt is crying again suddenly, he should save his tears for other times, but Techie brings them out of him. Drives out the bad and fills him with hope and comfort. But the bad must come out first, and it does, in sobs and hiccups and a streaming nose. Techie holds him and doesn't say anything when Matt cries into his hair.

 

By 6am, they are sat in a booth, with hot coffee and pancakes. Techie seems to know how Matt needs him, and forgoes any sort of ceremony to sit next to him on the cracked vinyl seat instead of opposite. Their thighs press together and neither moves away. It’s a solid, human sort of comfort.

 

They don't talk much, except Techie nagging him to eat something. He forces down some pancakes and sausage to appease him. Watches while he dribbles syrup down his chin.

 

It's in the grim half-light of the crappy little hire car that Techie looks over at him, utterly exhausted in the sodium glow of the streetlights, beanie hat knocked aside, syrup down his chin, but still smiling because right now, Matt needs him to smile. Matt feels like his chest will explode, splatter viscera everywhere, with all the love inside him.

 

It doesn't, so he kisses the stickiness from Techie’s chin and mouth, so hugely, hopelessly grateful he feels he might cry again.

 

*

 

Sleep isn't really an option by the time they get back to the hotel room. There's too much to be done. Techie, as though he hasn't done enough, collects a spare key to Matt’s apartment from a neighbour (at Matt’s request), and collects his best suit, a black tie, and shoes reserved only for special occasions. He has also arranged care for Pepper the whole time Matt’s been gone. He drops the clothes in the bed first, and slips into the shower as Matt stares at the items.

 

It all seems so heavy with meaning that he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to put them on. But he slips his shoes off, socks, jacket, everything but his t-shirt and jeans. Prepares soap, razor, toothbrush, shampoo, presses his best white shirt, anything other than stare at the items in front of him, anything except moping and thinking about what he's about to do.

 

Techie returns in a hotel bathrobe, hair roughly towel dried. Freshly shaved, a little less sweaty, pink-cheeked, his freckles even more visible in the dark circles under his eyes.

 

He looks at Matt, his mouth twitching sympathetically. ‘I'll get dressed in here, if you like. And I might go get us some more coffee while you get suited and booted.’

 

Matt nods. He kind of likes that expression. But he feels so numb, so dimly, shiveringly, nauseously tired, he can't express it.

 

He does shower, forces himself not to just stand under the water with his forehead against the tiles. Soaps his hair, then the rest of him. Shaves without much interest, brushes his teeth and stares, stares, stares at the overgrown kid in the mirror. Blurry without his glasses but still clearly scared witless.

 

He forgets about Techie when he lopes into the bedroom with just a towel around his waist, carrying his hanger full of clothes. He is still at least a little flattered at the way Techie’s eyes skim his broad, muscular chest and shoulders, and the way he forgets to close his mouth for a moment. 

 

Techie himself is..different. Somehow younger. Pale and handsome in his dark suit and black tie, his hair in a sharp centre part and gathered into a neat bun at the back, which draws attention to his eyes and elegant cheekbones. They stare at each other, and for a moment the air crackles with the same electric possibility as back in Techie’s apartment.

 

‘Well.’ Techie says with some finality, looking matt very deliberately in the face, his eyes round in surprise but determined to look nowhere else. ‘Coffee?’

 

Matt never takes sugar. His mother used to say he was sweet enough. But on this occasion he asks for it with three, and as much milk as Techie can lay his hands on. He's also never seen Techie flustered, and it makes him smile, just for a moment lifts the great boulder inside his chest.

 

His big fingers fumble on his shirt buttons, and he hates wearing a tie. But it all goes on, tie and jacket and shiny shoes, laces perfect. However he brushes his hair, it's still a mess. Finally straightening his tie, he takes a deep inhale, sighs, and admits defeat. That will do. He grabs his heavy wool coat and scarf. There's a soft rap at the door.

 

He answers it to Techie, with two paper cups. His eyes widen again.

 

‘You look..you look really nice. Better than your jumpsuit at work, I think.’

 

‘You think?’

 

‘Yeah. I think so. Handsome.’ He hands Matt his coffee, so he can brush his thumb over Matt’s cheek with a small smile, and peck a chaste kiss of encouragement onto his lips. ‘Let's get going.’ 

 

It's not far, they walk, sipping their coffee in companionable silence.

 

His mother had already requested the funeral procession, whatever that was supposed to be, went from Matt’s childhood home to the small chapel up on the hill, for a short service and cremation. Short and neat. No fuss. Matt thinks she deserves more, but will give her what she wants, this last time.

 

Techie glances around them as they walk, quietly curious about the clapboard houses, people's cars, the ornaments in their gardens. It’s a bright, cold morning, and he knots his scarf (suitably somber colours but printed with tiny snowflakes) a little tighter beneath his thick black coat.    
  
Matt falters a few houses down from his. The hearse is in the front garden, two white ponies in heavy, ornate black rugs stamping and whickering in the cold. The coffin is already loaded, carpeted with flowers in pastel shades. The wreath Matt selected, purple irises and yellow carnations, is unapologetically loud on top of the small hillock of foliage.   
  
‘I can’t.’ He stops. His chest is too tight. Maybe his coat’s too heavy. He’s going to be sick or he’s going to cry.   
  
‘Yeah, you can.’ Techie says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.   
  
‘I can’t, I’m not-’   
  
‘So we’ll do it together. I’m not going anywhere.’ he says patiently, taking Matt’s hand. ‘One step at a time.’

 

There’s not many people at the house anyway.The funeral director, and the driver for the hearse.  A few of the ladies from church, bundled in dark coats, sharing round a flask of coffee. But they put it all aside for Matt and Techie. Matt is hugged and kissed and fussed over as much as he has been the past couple of days. He nods numbly, agrees that yes it was peaceful, seventy five is a good age, considering, yes she did have a wonderful life. He comes away with cheeks pink with equal parts embarrassment and lipstick, throat thickening again because they mean so well, they were far closer to his mom than he ever was in the past few years.   
  
Sure, he called every week. He came home for Christmas and Easter, not because church has ever been a big deal for him, but it is for his mom, and that’s enough. But these ladies fed his mom and mopped her tears and cooked for her, as she did for them, and Matt should be thanking them profusely. Most of them held him as a baby, watched him grow into a gangly teenager and told him how handsome he was getting and that he would grow into his ears and nose, however much he disagrees with them. He is sending them all flowers, each and every one, when he gets home.   
  
The procession starts, really only about fifteen people following the hearse. Matt and Techie take the lead, Techie wordlessly taking his hand again when he stumbles. They continue at a suitably funereal pace, hoofbeats on asphalt the only sound interrupting the wind whistling through the last of the autumn leaves.   
  
Pallbearers was not really something Matt considered, although in hindsight he should have. Stupid really. But Techie volunteers, and couple of the church ladies draft in their husbands. Matt can’t look at Techie as they hoist the coffin onto their shoulders. He never thought he’d have to ask him to do anything like this. His throat and chest are heavy with grief and gratitude, but he inhales deeply, because really, Techie shouldn’t have to see him this way. But as the organ plays the first few bars of ‘Amazing Grace’ (His mom’s stipulation again, the funeral march is far too grim), and they walk what seems the longest twenty yards of his life, his bottom lip betrays him. He tries to control it, will it still, at least until he can sit down, but this only makes more tears spill. Techie helps him guide the coffin down onto the dias, and Matt lets himself be led, pathetically, to his seat.   
  
They are finally, mercifully seated. Techie whispers close as everyone rustles and shuffles into their seats. ‘Are you alright?’   
  
Matt nods stonily.   
  
‘Sure?’   
  
He nods once more, squeezing Techie’s fingers in reassurance.   
  
The service is pretty short, simple, like everything else. A short introduction and blessing, and they stand for the hymn. Techie does sing, a little warbly, but it’s almost like, whatever he does today, he won’t let Matt down. Nor does he let go of his hand.   
  
One of the ladies from church, Dolly, gives the eulogy. It’s thankfully short, but even Techie’s eyes are pink by the end. And now his turn. The reading he picked two days ago. Because his mom wouldn’t want anyone standing over her grave and sobbing, and anything from the Bible is something Matt will mess up. Twelve lines. Simple and short and everything she’d want to say: Do not stand at my grave and weep.   
  
He takes a deep breath, he still feels dizzy standing at the lectern, he’s pretty sure he’s going to faint. His fingers dig into the polished wood. Deep inhale, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He looks down at the single sheet in his hand. Techie is still watching him earnestly from the front row like a parent at a school play, willing him on. He pushes his glasses up his nose, and begins. His voice is too deep, too loud, in the blanket-heavy silence of the chapel. But Techie is the only face he dares to look at. Matt is comforted, just a little, that he looks proud.

 

And like that it’s over. The rest passes in a blur, a final prayer, and the coffin disappearing silently behind the curtain at the back.   
  
Coffee and cake follows, and shaking hands and humbly thanking, thanking again and again. He’s pretty sure Techie does most of it, whilst holding his hand, deferring people when too many try to talk to him at once. Matt dimly thinks that one day, he is going to marry this sweet, strong, diamond of a man.   
  
And after a polite hour, they leave quietly, with sympathetic nods from the church ladies, and only-partly-joking requests for invites to their wedding.   
  
The walk to the hotel seems too far, the descent down the hill suddenly dizzyingly steep. But Techie just keeps walking, a firm grip on Matt’s hand, and they make it eventually.   
  
He helps Matt off with his coat, scarf and jacket, gently.

  
‘You don’t have to do all this, you know.’ Matt’s voice sounds far too loud against the silence.   
  
‘I know. But I want to.’   
  
‘Why?’   
  
‘Because I like you too. An awful lot. Because I’m pretty sure you’re my boyfriend now, if we’re not actually engaged already.’ He grins a little at that part ‘ And because you look like you need someone to look after you right now.’   
  
Matt can’t think of anything good enough, effusive enough, he’s said so many thank you’s today that the words seem to fray apart, meaningless in his mind, just a handful of letter sounds that are all wrong together.   
  
Techie is still looking at him so earnestly, his hair ruffled by the wind, his scarf still loosely slung around his neck, all owlish concern and he’s so utterly beautiful in that moment that Matt takes that pretty face between his hands and kisses him hard, pulling him close. The surprised noise Techie makes turns into a needy little moan as Matt impatiently pulls his scarf off and drops it to the floor.   
  
And for a few moments there’s nothing else, no words and no agenda except two people pulling away everything, all the grief and pain and ridiculous clothing keeping them from each other. Matt only thinks afterwards that he doesn’t look at what he’s doing, he should be savouring this, but Techie’s hands are equally impatient, and warm, and as good as Techie looked in that suit, it is currently between him and the only source of comfort he cares about right now.   
  


His fingers still aren't as delicate as he wants them to be. He's pretty sure he pops off a couple of Techie’s shirt buttons, but he can apologise later for that.   
because now he can kiss, press his lips to the long column of Techie’s throat, glad and greedy, lipping at the sharp ridge of his collarbone and the small, secret hollow between neck and shoulder, relishing each little whimper of pleasure.

 

Techie loosens his hair from the band holding it in place with an irritated grunt, eventually letting it fall to his shoulders and hastily returning, pressing bare chest and thrumming heart to Matt’s. He licks sweetly at Matt’s jaw with a murmur that sounds a lot like ‘Mine’ as his hands poke and fidget at the fastening of Matt’s trousers. 

 

Matt has never hated side zips and complicated fastenings any more than he does now, but they work it out between them. Until they are both standing in their underwear, holding each other’s shoulders for support as they take their socks off in turn, blushing and giggling as they step out of their underwear because there's no more room for serious and solemn today. 

 

And it's then that Matt does look. At the slim body, he hesitates to call Techie ‘little’ because he is nearly as tall as Matt’s 6’4’’, but his chest and shoulders are delicate and rounded rather than broad, there's a very slight curve to his belly, making him soft, a little bit squashy around the middle. The dusting of freckles that starts at his cheeks spreads over his ears and neck, peppered generously over his arms and hands, the last reminders of walking to work in the summer. He’s hard already, his cock flushed and pinkening like the rest of him.

 

He’s beautiful. And has decided that that's enough looking, touching is better, because he is wrapping his arms around Matt again, running long fingers through dirty blonde curls and  _ oh _ , the shiver that sends through him, right down to his toes.

 

Matt’s hands are careful, smoothing over his back and down, cupping his rear, nuzzling and pecking gentle kisses over his cheek and neck, smelling shampoo and aftershave and mouthing at soft skin, kissing a smudge of frosting from the corner of his mouth, because he doesn't know what happens now, what he  _ should  _ do is more difficult still, but this is a hazy, dream-like sort of perfect.

 

‘Mattie, Mattie…’ Techie sighs next to his ear, both those clever hands in his hair now.

 

‘M’here..’ He whispers back ‘All yours.’ It seems important somehow. They are both here, they belong. 

 

‘Come to bed.’

 

Beneath the blankets, Techie pulls Matt on top of him, and Matt can't, he's too heavy, that beautiful, lithe body will break under his. And he tries to say, but it catches in his throat.

 

‘C-ca-’

 

‘Not good?’ Techie is staring up at him, eyes still full of care.

 

‘Very good, you are, you feel so..I just…’ He wills the last words out, because he should explain really, before he dissolves into tears, nearly collapses with the great weight in his throat and chest.

 

It's not even about him being too heavy for Techie. It's that this should be perfect. It should be all the comfort he needs, it should be lots of things but instead Techie is on his side, gathering him close so he can sob into his shoulder. 

 

Techie is holding him there, like he can hide him away and keep him safe while he mumbles comforting nonsense into his hair.

 

‘I couldn't..’ He tries to explain after a few minutes, blowing out a heavy breath to calm himself.

 

‘I know. It's fine.’ He can barely see Teche’s small smile in the fading light, but he can hear it in his voice.

 

‘But it isn't. This is what I want. You are.’

 

‘I know. I want you too. But I'm not going anywhere. There's no time limit on this. When you're ready, if you want to, we can..’ He says patiently.

 

‘I need.. I just want you to understand. I don't think I should doing this. Not now. Should I?’ 

 

‘What do you think?’ Techie says, propping himself on a pillow so he can see Matt better.

 

‘I don't know.’

 

‘Well, what would your mom want for you? From life, I mean.’

 

‘She just wanted me to be happy.’

 

‘And were you? Before she died?’

 

‘Yeah. I-I liked my life. I still do I guess. When you kissed me that time, all the times we’ve had together. I was happy then.’

 

‘I'm want to on kiss you plenty more times.’ Techie says, like he’s already decided. He pauses to kiss Matt’s forehead ‘And I want you to be happy too. I want to be yours, Mattie.’

 

‘You are. Mine. My..my boyfriend I guess.’ He huffs a laugh because it sounds so damn juvenile, but he feels so lucky to say it.

 

‘Mmmhmm’ Techie hums, wriggling a little closer to kiss the end of his nose. ‘Sleep?’

 

‘Maybe..’ Matt says without much conviction, because Techie is so close, and already slipping his leg between Matt’s, tangling them together. 

 

Matt kisses him then, and they’re belly-to-belly again, and he can’t think any more. Not beyond skin and hands and the curve of Techie’s neck, the sensitive spot at the juncture of neck and shoulder and the noises he makes when Matt suckles, just there, just so..   
  
He should wait, really, this should be more. Special. But it’s enough, it’s what they need right now. Not hands carefully-placed and teasing and technique. But skin-on-skin, holding too tightly, wound together and soft noises just because they are  _ here  _ and  _ together. _ _   
_ __   
Techie finally does brush his fingertips over Matt’s cock, asking ‘Can I?’ breathily soft into his neck.   
  
‘Yes...please. Can I?’

 

‘Mmmm…’   
  
They keep each other close. Matt kisses him feverishly, brow, lips, cheeks, as he works his cock with a loose fist, slow at first, but faster at Matt’s sigh of ‘More, please, I…’   
  
He only stops kissing so he can watch the way Techie’s lips part, how his eyes slip closed when he strokes between his legs. Stroking his thighs apart with gentle fingers, brushing over his balls and the delicate skin at the top of his thighs.    
  
‘Next time.’ Matt promises in a voice made rough by tears and want ‘Next time I’ll do this with my mouth.’   
  
‘Oh yes..’ Techie sighs.   
  
‘Like this?’ Matt wraps his fingers loosely, pumping his cock twice, three times

 

‘Exactly like that.’    
  
Techie wriggles closer again, so Matt’s arm is under his neck, cradling his head. So he can suck greedily at Matt’s bottom lip, lick into his mouth and kiss him greedily until Matt pleads ‘I can’t stop..please!’   
  
He spills over Techie’s hand, their bellies, the sheets, cursing softly with his forehead pressed to Techie’s.   
  
Techie is beautiful when he comes. He’ll insist later than nobody is beautiful at that particular moment. But the way his eyes scrunch, the way he burrows into Matt’s neck that night, whispering, chanting ‘ _ Mattie, Mattie, oh..Mattie..’,  _ the way he clings, arches close, and the final, delicious ‘Oh, fuck!’ when he climaxes in his arms. Matt thinks it’s beautiful.   
  
Neither wants to let go. Matt presses a kiss goodnight onto Techie’s hair, and Techie moves just enough to peck Matt’s cheek. They are both too exhausted to do anything but sleep in the mess they’ve made, Techie curled into Matt’s chest.   
  
Matt is never really sure if Techie is awake to hear his whispered ‘Thank you.’

  
They sleep late the next morning, grateful to find the other still there. They don’t have to get back on the plane until three. But there’s time enough for more coffee and pancakes, and a stolen, syrup-sticky kiss before they have to return Matt’s hire car.    
  
There’s time enough for Techie to take Matt’s hand after they’ve shouldered their bags, and walk through the terminal with him, finding the right gate. Time enough to doze on the plane, and finally get back to Techie’s apartment, and dread work in the morning.   
  
Time enough to explore each others bodies, and watch terrible late-night TV naked under a pile of blankets. Time enough to tell each other that they do love each other, more than anything.   
  
Time enough.


End file.
